


Being Normal

by 1treehill



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:36:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1treehill/pseuds/1treehill
Summary: Holden Ford wakes up in a hospital and interacts with Bill Tench.





	Being Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Before the second season is available (yay!), one more look at Holden and Bill dealing with their issues after Holden's collapse.

Holden Ford woke up in a hospital bed, with a man looming over him, peering into his face. The young federal agent gasped and nearly screamed at the proximity and the fact that he had no idea how he got there.

The doctor, for that was clearly what he was, Holden realized once he calmed himself a bit, said, “Whoa. Mr. Ford, no need for alarm. Do you know where you are?”

Holden panted, then took a deep breath before he spoke. “I’m in a hospital. I think… I remember I’m in California. Am I still at Vacaville? Yes, I must still be. Um… I don’t recall what happened after I saw…”

Suddenly Holden’s eyes lost focus and he began panting again, this time in inexplicable panic.

The doctor, a portly, middle-aged man with dark circles under his eyes, called for the nurse to inject something into Holden’s IV and spoke gently. “Mr. Ford, you’re safe. The man you visited is back in his cell. You suffered a panic attack, but we’ve just given you a sedative and you should feel better in a few seconds.”

Holden felt the heat enter his veins, immediately followed by the forced calm, and his fear was replaced by intense embarrassment. He remembered everything, but couldn’t understand why he had responded to Kemper’s words and… hug by collapsing. He could almost hear what his father would say about his less than manly reaction.

As if his father was there and actually scolded him harshly, Holden felt the familiar burn of shame and frisson of fear of physical reprisal go through his system. What was wrong with him? Why were his emotions so out of control? He noticed his face was wet and roughly wiped the tears away.

“Are you feeling better, Mr. Ford,” the doctor asked quietly. “I can increase the dosage if you’d like.”

“No,” Holden said hurriedly, “I’m fine. I apologize for my lack of control. I’m calm. Sorry.”

The doctor looked concerned and said, “No need for apologies. We’re just here to make you feel better. Panic attacks are nothing to feel ashamed about. And they are treatable with medication.”

Holden looked down, feeling drowsy and unconvinced. “Okay,” he muttered.

The doctor asked, “Your partner is here. Would you like to see him?”

No, Holden thought. Bill probably hated him, and he could imagine the disgust in his eyes far too easily. But he answered, “Sure. I hope he hasn’t been waiting long.”

“Oh, he’s been here since early this morning. It’s 1:00 in the afternoon now. It hasn’t been that long. You’re clearly exhausted, and the tranquilizer we gave you when you first arrived affected you more than we anticipated. You slept for quite a long time. I’m sure your partner’s eager to see you awake and improved,” the doctor responded cheerfully.

Holden steeled himself emotionally to face Bill, knowing he deserved whatever Bill threw his way— anger, disgust, disbelief, hatred. He might as well get it over with, particularly since he was currently thoroughly drugged.

The doctor and nurse left, and Holden was alone. Despite the medication, he was nervous and anxious about seeing Bill. So much had happened over the past few months, and where at one point Holden considered Bill his friend and mentor, now he didn’t know what Bill was to him. Or what he was to Bill. A thorn in his side. An ex-partner. A former friend.

Bill walked in the door, and despite Holden’s best efforts, he couldn’t read Bill’s face. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked tired and worn, which didn’t make Holden feel any better.

Bill silently sat down and took his time before he finally turned his head and looked Holden directly in the eyes. The older man stared but didn’t speak. Strangely, Holden still couldn’t tell what Bill was feeling. It made him terrified and almost angry.

“Okay, Bill, spit it out. Read me the riot act. Get it out of your system,” Holden blurted out, voice shaking, tears forming in his eyes. He wished he sounded more confident, but any kind of control of his body seemed out of his reach.

Bill remained silent for another minute, which felt like an hour to Holden. Then he said quietly, “How do you feel, Holden?”

Holden was briefly thrown by the question, then answered, “I’m perfectly fine. I’m sure they’ll let me go soon.”

“What happened?”

“I went to see Kemper after he hurt himself and named me his medical proxy, then…”

“I mean, what happened to you… after.”

“Apparently I freaked out, panicked, collapsed, lost control.” This time Holden looked away from Bill’s laser glare.

“I told you not to let them get into your head.”

“What? Who?”

“You know who, Holden. For fuck’s sake, don’t act like you’re stupid. The monsters we’ve been interviewing. I told you not to let them get into your head. And this is why. You’re not as tough as you think you are.”

“I never said I was tough, Bill. I was using whatever worked to convince our subjects to open up to us. Otherwise, what was the point of our study?”

“Whatever worked. Right. You made them your friends, empathized with them. You know as well as I the hideous things they did, and you buddied up to them.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Sure. At what cost? Your humanity? Your sanity and peace of mind?”

“I’m not crazy, Bill. I’m just tired.” Holden was proud of himself that this sentence wasn’t accompanied by more tears. Anger helped him control himself, clearly.

Bill looked slightly chastened. “Of course you’re not crazy, Holden. But doing this job, whatever it takes, got to you, didn’t it? Landed you in the hospital.”

“Okay, you’ve basically said ‘Told you so.’ Get it over with. You’ve been waiting for this moment over the past few months. Now you can tell me how right you’ve been and how wrong I’ve been. I’m tired of waiting. Spit it out,” Holden said angrily.

“You arrogant piece of shit. You’re the one who’s been walking around like the god of BSU, showing off your superior skills and unassailable judgment! Acting like judge and jury, meting out punishment according to your whims. Worked real well with that principal, didn’t it?”

“What do you know about Roger Wade?” Holden began to shake again. “You don’t know what happened to him.”

“I know you decided he was guilty, so I assumed you somehow punished him. Even though he hadn’t done anything illegal.”

“Yet. Yet. He could easily escalate his behavior. Was I supposed to wait until he assaulted a student? Isn’t the goal of our study to predict and prevent criminal behavior?”

“Holden, you have no right to decide if someone is guilty of a future crime. Our goal is to have better tools to catch killers before they strike again, not to predict behavior.”

Holden felt sick, literally sick. Maybe the medications were having a bad effect on him. Or maybe the arguing was making him nauseous. Either way, he suddenly said to Bill, “Get out of my room. I mean it. Right now.”

Bill answered, “Calm down, kid. Let’s just have a talk like grown-ups.”

“No, I mean it. I’m gonna be sick. Get out.”

Before Bill could process the statement, Holden turned to the side of the bed opposite to where Bill was and began retching. There wasn’t much to bring up but bile, but the retching continued. Bill became alarmed and hit the call button on the bed.

Finally, Holden seemed finished, and he lay back on the bed, eyes closed, body visibly shaking. 

“Hey, Holden. Are you okay?” Bill asked.

Holden didn’t answer, but waved his hand slightly.

Finally, a nurse arrived. Then came orderlies who set about to clean the room, while the nurse cleaned Holden up and checked on his vitals.

“Should… Should I leave?” Bill asked, uncertain and worried.

“Perhaps that would be best,” the young nurse responded.

“No. No. I’m okay,” Holden slurred. “Stay, Bill.”

Bill sat back down, looking uncomfortable.

“Your temperature and blood pressure are a bit raised, Mr. Ford,” the nurse said, “which is not unusual after vomiting.”

“Can I go home soon?” Holden asked.

“The doctor thinks you should stay another night. I’ll have him come in and talk to you as soon as he’s able,” the nurse said.

Cleaning all done, the nurse and orderlies left the room.

“Kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re clearly not well,” Bill said in a low tone, bleeding concern and regret.

“I’m fine,” Holden muttered, eyes still closed.

“Holden, stop saying that. You’re in a hospital bed. You just puked your guts up. You’re not fine. Anything but.”

“Bill, I want to apologize to you for being so arrogant and hard to work with. I don’t know if I still have a job, but I’ll understand if you want a new partner. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Holden, you started this whole thing. There wouldn’t be a study without you. And I may be occasionally disgusted and repulsed by the job, but I am firmly dedicated to the BSU and the study. I truly believe we can do some good. So, forget about me finding a new partner. I’m fine with you.”

Holden sighed, then said, “But I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’ll change my ways, I swear.”

“Don’t do it for me, ‘cause you’re sorry. Do it because you understand that you need to find a different way of getting this job done. A way that doesn’t eat away at you and leave you on the verge of collapsing.”

“I get it, Bill. I do. I’m scared.” Holden’s lower lip began trembling and he stopped speaking.  
Then Holden continued. “I felt so alone. I feel so alone. And confused. It’s like… I’ve been running and running and suddenly I hit a wall and woke up here. I know something went wrong, but I don’t know why it went wrong. I feel frail, and… God, my father would be so disappointed in how weak I’ve become.”

Holden began sobbing. Bill didn’t know how to react, feeling embarrassed and worried.

“Hey, hey, kid. You’re not weak. You’ve never been. This, this reaction you’re having, it’s called being human. Only another psychopath would be able to handle the amount of shit we’ve been dealing with, interviewing these killers. You’re not weak, you’re normal,” Bill insisted.

Holden sniffled but calmed. “Normal? No one’s ever accused me of that before.”

“I bet, “ Bill said, “but it’s true. I wasn’t sure before because you seemed to be so comfortable with everything, but now I know. You’re like me. These monsters make you sick. That’s a good thing, believe me.”

Bill continued, “And I forgive you. Only if you forgive me for letting you feel so alone. It was my way of distancing myself from all the horror. But you weren’t really a part of it. I made a mistake and didn’t watch your back. Can you forgive me?”

“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to forgive,” Holden mumbled.

“Wrong answer, Holden. Do… you… forgive… me?”

“Yes, Bill.”

“Okay, Holden, that’s taken care of. Now let’s get you better,” Bill said.

Holden answered with a watery but genuine smile.


End file.
